


The Pick Up Artist

by akire_yta



Series: prompt ficlets [567]
Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-14 19:32:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14775860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akire_yta/pseuds/akire_yta
Summary: thebaconsandwichofregret asked“It must be hard with your sense of direction, never being able to find your way to a decent pickup line.” John and Penny





	The Pick Up Artist

“It must be hard with your sense of direction, never being able to find your way to a decent pickup line.” 

Penny even winked as she took a sip of her champagne.  Watching John try to get a girl’s number was like watching a puppy do quantum physics.  Even though you knew he’d not get a single digit right, it was oddly adorable to watch him try.

She had no idea how the game had started, but she was in a comfortable lead.  In her compact was the the private numbers of half a dozen men back in the main party.  They’d retired to the small bar on the upper level as a kind of handicap, a concession to John’s lack of practice, but she was starting to doubt he could legitimately pick up a number off a flier, the way he was going.

John was scowling as he stripped off his tie.  The last girl had thrown her drink in his face, and Penny was dying of curiousity to know what John did, or perhaps more accurately, copied off Scott badly, to earn a cocktail in the kisser.

His sodden bowtie hit the table next to her champagne flute with a wet slap. “I yield, you win,” he grumbled, flopping down across from her in her booth.

“Aw, you’re no fun, don’t you want to get the contact details for all the pretty girls?”

“I already have your number, who else’s do I need?”

Penny paused, the flute on her lips.  She felt the cool glass press in against her soft smile, knowing she couldn’t blame the flush in her cheeks wholly on the bubbles.  “Who indeed?”  She drained the glass and made her decision.  “Want to get out of here?”

John smelled of alcohol but he held out his arm as he escorted her from the party.


End file.
